Released on June 10, 2014

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[Verse 1: Daveed Diggs]

Urban renewal is a rabbit hole of wiki links and one pill makes you smaller

The other one's a bullet, point taken, pull it

Aim it at he face at twenty paces and you'll probably hit a bystander

Overpopulation is a bitch, ain't it? And a bitch bad

And a bad bitch the type to make you bust fast

Bitch keep bussin' at them for they bus pass

Victims of rapid transit police on bus ads for a movie made about his life

And where the life is but a knife of calico

The impulse always is to weaponize

So weapons, eyes, and targets fixed

No contacts, no context, ex-con's texts to his mom's just rang out

The lexicon's expanding at a rapid pace

Hashtags on the twitter, hotspots on hot blocks

Still got them hot pockets on lockup in the freezer

Half as cold as the demeanor

Half as coded as the overloaded speakers bumping G shit


[Drum Interlude: Brian Chippendale]


[Verse 2: Daveed Diggs]

"Your space is narrow," said the water to the bank

Before he robbed the motherfucker blind

Don't underestimate the underestimated

They rest esteemed on beds of all your daughter's friendship bracelets

She's having dreams of dancing in the dark with darker faces

What a waste, she water-wade and welcome to the city

That you chose when most could not escape it

The escapades are consequential

When the national order is disturbed, it's only right the lions gonna fight back

And it might smack at that primitive imitation arranged by illiterates

But literally who gives a shit? Shit!

Grabbin' the bull by the french horns and heralding, a new day is played out

Kid with a high top fade, ain't no way, will it be outdid?

And if it's like this and that then listen up and enter a new commissioner

With a mission to get you the fuck up out his mistletoe

He leave a kiss like death, tuck up the deuce and go

Just watch him go


[Drum Interlude: Brian Chippendale]


[Verse 3: Daveed Diggs]

This is the bitter taste of disconnect

Don't recognize the intellect if it don't be on the internet

So gangsta shit becomes an empty threat

Unless you live it to the very best to leave it with mean empty nest syndrome

And the empty nest of stomach makes a tempting test

But will or won't you ski mask on this store run?

More guns up, more funds, morphine, more fiends

More deplorable news for camera crews to shoot more scenes and they morphing

Black or white, the paper chase, the glassy pipe

The needle and the haystack made of needles

The refracted light of self-reflecting's worse

Short and squat from gravity, rough from overtouching buff

From holding up the mantlepiece for you to place your tchochkes on

Mementos of your visit to where the men go ignant

And women catch her trickin', and ain't nobody tripping but you

So get your fuck on, or stay and get your fuck on

No one really gives a fuck


[Drum outro: Brian Chippendale]